


Scrapped Ending

by Ysavvryl



Category: Memories of Summer - Ruth White
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysavvryl/pseuds/Ysavvryl
Summary: When writing a story, even a true one, it's often hard to tell how to end it.





	Scrapped Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



I’d go visit Summer in the hospital some days. While it made me sad to see her like that, I’m sure she enjoyed the visits. Sometimes she’d talk on and on about things that didn’t make sense to me. Sometimes she’d be silent and I’d end up telling her about how my days were going. And if I was lucky, I’d be able to have a conversation with her.

On one of those lucky days, I brought up something I’d been meaning to tell her. “Summer, I’ve been writing a book lately.”

“Is it about them musicals?” she asked, looking up from the magazine she’d been reading. We were in the lobby since she’d been here when I’d arrived. “Are you writing a musical?”

“Well no, but that would be interesting,” I said.

Summer brightened up at that. “You could make a musical so that Poppy could be in it, where one of the songs is played on guitar on stage. Maybe about the queen of the valley looking for her lost love.”

I nodded in part to make her happy (though it is a nice idea). “That could be fun, but...”

“And then she drives off in a Pontiac when she finds him, and they go live on the moon instead ‘cause there’s no wolves or tornadoes on the moon,” she went on.

“Driving a car to the moon?” I asked. It would make the musical more of a fairy tale.

She looked over the magazines nearby, then picked up one about cars. “Sure, why not? The President told me that they’re secretly making an engine that’ll take cars into outer space so it’s easier to watch enemies. It’ll be okay if you write them into a musical, though, since people will just think it’s part of the fantasy and I’ll tell him you’re my sister, so it’s fine.”

“That could be fun, but no, I’m writing a book about you. I’ve been putting the typewriting classes to good use so I can make a nice manuscript.”

For a moment, she looked at me quizzically. Her gaze drifted off when someone came in the room, but she asked, “Why write about me? It’d be scary without any good reason why.”

That was true, even in ways she might not realize. “Well I wanted to try...”

Then she interrupted me with bright eyes, saying, “Or, you could write about me becoming a star! But that’s something I will do, not something I’ve done yet. I already sing for everybody and they love it. I’m a star to them already.”

Hearing that, I felt glad because it was also true. The nurse told me that she did sing occasionally and most of the other patients liked it when she did. “Well it’s about something you told me once,” I said, hoping I could get through what I was saying. “About how people die every day and in a hundred years time, nearly all of them are forgotten.”

“Oh yeah, that’s an important thing to know,” Summer said.

I decided I better keep speaking before she got into taking over the conversation; that was one of her favored topics. “I decided that I didn’t want that to happen to you, so I’m writing a book about you so you aren’t forgotten.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you, Lyric, but,” then she reached over and grabbed my arm, “you have to make sure to write a happy ending for yourself.”

“What?” I was really surprised when she said it, since that was more like the Summer I used to know. During some visits, I wouldn’t see that part of her at all because she was too distracted in all the other voices in her head.

“You’re the best sister someone could ever ask for, so you have to have a good ending in a story with both of us in it,” Summer insisted. “I’ve decided that it’s okay if you fly freely because then you’re not down in old nightmares unable to escape. It also means I don’t got to worry about if the wolves got you too. And it’ll be good to not be forgotten, because then maybe some other girl a hundred years down the road will know to escape before it’s too late.”

Even though the doctor said they’d never seen a schizophrenic person recover, I hoped that they might find a way someday. “Right, then we’d be able to help her,” I said.

“Great!” she said. “And for the musical, could you use songs like we heard back in Virginia? I miss them sometimes because there’s not much like that on the radio. And we could have funny little dwarves who sell the car to the queen.”

And she had dozens of other ideas for this musical, many of which didn’t mix well. I listened like I always did, although I was thinking that writing a whole musical would be a challenge.

* * *

I removed the paper from the typewriter and looked over this ending I wrote. It was all true, since it’s fresh in my mind. When I decided to write our story, I wanted to be sure that it was all the truth. Maybe I’ll change some people’s names if they don’t want to be recognized. I think Yolanda will like the idea of her name being in a true story book, which might encourage Gladys and Nadine to agree to me using their names. But maybe somebody like the ex-soldier boys and the Millers ought to have different names. Miller is a common name, I find, so that might be okay. But the boy Summer was obsessed with might not appreciate being singled out.

This was something that happened, but was it really the ending I wanted for the story? I want to make it clear that I remember her even when it’s painful, but I have my own life that makes me happy. Maybe in the future, if somebody finds a medicine or treatment that really works, then I could have a happy ending for Summer too. But we don’t know when that’ll happen. This needs to be a real part of the story too; I can’t just make up a happy ending.

But she wants a happy ending for me…

I could write about me and Michael. We were sweethearts through our school years and he asked me to marry him after graduation. Since I know he loves and cares about me, and I feel the same about him, we went ahead and married. Summer couldn’t come to the wedding, but I saved part of my bouquet for her. She won’t be getting married. Still, the flowers made her happy for a little while.

While he helped me a lot with accepting Summer and I as we were, he didn’t really talk with her much. There was that time in the diner when we met. But even then, they didn’t talk with each other very much. While I am happy with my husband (and our own family soon), it doesn’t have much to do with the story of Summer and me and Poppy.

I could write about me and my friends. They were with me more when Summer was still living at home, so they’re already an important part of the story. After I couldn’t be a part of The Mikado, they encouraged me to try out for a different musical the next year, and every year after that. Being in the musicals made me happy and proud; I felt like I could be someone great on my own. I’m still a part of theater now and I might even become famous. Although, I still practice my typing. Like Poppy says, a woman who can type well is assured a good job.

Although, Summer could never see me in a musical. I tell her all about them and sometimes she gets excited over what I say. I keep hoping to get in a production that’s filmed so I can give her a copy. The musicals are a good sign that I can be my own person now, even though I often think of Summer and wish things could be different. While it would be nice, I don’t think writing about my experience with musicals beyond The Mikado would be a good part of our story.

There was the street dance, though. I already wrote about the one Summer and I went to, where I was in awe of her spirit and beauty but I was too shy myself to join in. The next year, though, I went with my three friends and we had a grand time of it. I’d gotten brave enough then to take some of the better parts of Summer into myself. Mama had said that Summer would make the world a better place for the way she shone. I find myself thinking that I can fulfill her hopes for both of us, while remembering when Summer was such a shining spirit.

I remember her even though I flew away, and sometimes I look back to see if she’s still there. I write this story so that she isn’t forgotten. Maybe it will help a girl like her in the future. Maybe it will help a girl like me.

That seems like the ending I should write for this story.

But, I think I’ll keep this ending, what I wrote today. It’ll be a good reminder of why I’m writing this story.


End file.
